


Pizza and the Art of Manipulation

by Twisted_Slinky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Good Peter, Hand Jobs, Isaac Feels, Isaac-centric, M/M, Manipulative Peter, Near Future, Past Relationship(s), Pizza, Sassy Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:02:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Slinky/pseuds/Twisted_Slinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Isaac left his hometown hoping the move would heal old wounds, but now he's considering returning to Beacon Hills. Before he can, he's intercepted by another Omega outcast, Peter Hale, who, of course, presents him with a tempting offer. And pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pizza and the Art of Manipulation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the42towels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the42towels/gifts).



> Warning: graphic scene of a sexual nature, large age-gap (Isaac is of legal age here, though he has a flirty flashback to when he was 16 at one point)
> 
> A/N: This story was written for the TWreversebang and inspired by a terrific work of art by the wonderful the42towels: http://the42towels.tumblr.com/image/126767580838. Please go check it out! I don't think I would have ever been inspired to explore a Peter/Isaac relationship without her lovely artwork, and I now have an urge to write another one at some point... I mean, these characters kept throwing sass at me, and I barely had room for most of it, so I've got to find a way to share that with the world, right? Admittedly, I originally intended for this story to be a flirty character study, but one thing led to another (you read the warning, right?). I hope you still enjoy it.

Receiving a pizza at a pizza shop shouldn't have been a surprise, but Isaac found himself staring, wide-eyed, as the waitress slid the heavy platter and its steaming load onto the center of his table.

"One large kitchen-sink, extra mushrooms, on thin crust," she chirped, a cheerful smile on her sorority-pledge face as she unloaded two plates and extra utensils. "Anything else I can get you fellas?"

There were a few things Isaac had picked up on during his years as an Omega, such as, when visiting a strange place, keep the exit close and your back to the wall. Most importantly, stay vigilante. When Chris had reluctantly parted ways with the young wolf, the hunter had harped that last part so much that Isaac _still_ heard the man's voice echoing in his ears whenever he traveled somewhere new, and, of course, that was always. Not that Isaac minded. It was what he craved at first, movement, freshness, anything to distract him from Beacon Hills. That desire to put his past behind him had taken him halfway across the world...and back.

In reality, his hometown was less than five hours away. He'd stayed in driving distance for days now, awaiting news from someone, anyone, unsure if anyone would call him when the moment came. He could have already been in Beacon Hills, visiting his old...well, "friends" didn't feel like the right word, but Isaac would use it, in his head, if not aloud. But, instead, he'd been circling the area, stopping in cities, cruising through towns.

And, like any growing werewolf, eating at as many roadside diners and downtown bistros as he could manage. Today's choice had been a tiny Italian restaurant the locals seemed overly fond of recommending. The building was narrow, all bricks and steel and grease, and the smell of the food enough to overpower his senses...apparently.

Isaac blinked at the waitress. "I didn't order this."

Her smile didn't fade in the least. "Oh, your partner placed your order while you were in the restroom. He's quite the catch." And she winked.

She _winked_. Partner? Isaac swallowed hard, his body already leaning out of the booth, ready to make a run for the exit. 'If something feels off, you run,' Chris had said, 'and never forget, hunters might be deadly, but that doesn't mean you can trust other werewolves to be allies, either.' He sensed it right then, the presence of another wolf. It wasn't a scent really, that hit him first, but the awareness of another predator, stalking him.

"You're earning your tip, sweetheart."

Isaac felt his stomach jump into his throat at the sound of the man's voice. It had come from right in front of him, not the back door, and its owner had been standing close to the distracting waft coming from the kitchen doors, hidden in plain sight by a large party awaiting their seats.

The waitress giggled, promising them her full attention as she fled. Isaac barely noticed.

Peter Hale dropped his gaze from the pretty, retreating waitress to his intended prey. "Hope you don't mind," he said, smirking, "but I took the liberty of ordering. Perhaps it's not what you were in the mood for, but I think I can convince you to indulge."

'If something feels off, you run.'

Isaac forced himself to stay put and forced his eyes to stay on Peter's. It was a challenge, out and out, and from the excited glimmer in Peter's eyes, it was unexpected. But Isaac wasn't letting the older man win. He wasn't a boy anymore, or a submissive beta. And the man across from him was his equal.

Isaac reached out, pulling a slice of scolding hot pizza onto his plate. "As long as you're paying."

The taste, the smell, the company; it took him back. Just like he was certain Peter intended. He wasn't sure how the man had remembered the dish down to the extra mushrooms－Isaac had ordered those out out of spite because Derek had told him not to. But that was Peter, master manipulator, keeping all his little details in order. The man probably kept a journal for just such an occasion.

The exit was close. Isaac was fast. As was Peter.

So, Isaac stayed. He chewed slowly, and let the master work.

"I always said you had _bite_ ," Peter noted, far too proud of the pun.

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Is this the part where you offer me something, and I say no, and you do something seemingly crazy but that actually plays into your grand plan?"

"My, you do know how to speed up a date." Peter pulled his own piece onto a plate.

"This isn't a date."

"Isn't it?"

"You're doing it. Like, right now, you're doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Manipulating me to get whatever it is you want."

"And what exactly do you think I want?"

Isaac opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. "I'm not sure yet," he said, slowly. "But I doubt it's a coincidence, you showing up now, when Scott's Mom is－"

"This has nothing to do with Scott," Peter interrupted, a bit too curtly. He straightened, forcing a tight grin that was more of a sneer. "You've been out of the loop, so I'll forgive you for not keeping up with local gossip. My 'sins' are forgiven by our Messiah Wolf."

"After all that you did, you expect me to believe－"

"I do." Peter shrugged one shoulder. "We _are_ talking about Saint Scott, after all."

Isaac chewed a moment, making a noise of agreement, not that he exactly believed him. Peter seemed pleased, though, watching his mouth carefully, as if to make sure he was enjoying his food. For a moment, Isaac wondered if it was poisoned. He almost spat it out, but then Peter bit into his own slice. No wolfsbane, then.

Peter dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "However, I must confess, I _have_ been exiled from Beacon Hills. For the time being, at least. It's a rather silly agreement, considering all those who have exiled me are away at college most of the year."

"Sounds like Scott," Isaac replied, as if that was answer enough.

It was. Peter snorted, amused. "I'd like to point out again that I have no intention of discussing him further."

"You keep talking about him."

"Well, I hate him."

"I don't."

"No one is perfect."

Isaac shook his head. "What do you want, Peter?"

"You already know the answer to that question."

Peter leaned forward slightly, feigning interest in a shaker of parmesan, then looked up through his lashes, licking at the corner of his mouth. Isaac felt the heat in his cheeks and an irrational bolt of anger lanced through him, directed at himself. He hadn't meant to show anything resembling embarrassment in front of the other wolf, but, damn it, he knew _that_ look. He'd been on the receiving end of it before.

"Isn't it funny," Peter mused, "how the things that are bad for us are what we crave the most?"

"Your life in a nutshell," Isaac muttered, quietly.

"But not yours?"

Peter's question hung in the air. Isaac continued to eat. He was almost annoyed when he realized he'd already finished off his first slice (and, in turn, his excuse for not replying).

"No," Peter said, sharply.

Isaac almost dropped his second slice of pizza, but then realized the man wasn't trying to stop him from eating.

"No," Peter repeated, more softly, "I suppose the things _you_ crave aren't always bad for you...Power isn't a bad thing, after all. It's a fairly common want, for humans and animals alike."

"Power?" Isaac huffed. Of course. "I think you're still talking about yourself."

"Am I?" Peter's grin tightened. "You're right about me, obviously. I feel the most...secure when I'm the one in power. But you crave it too, just in a different way. You crave power in your mates, and loyalty as well. Your father had one of those qualities, but not the other; that's probably how you developed that particular need. Parental figures are so important in our development, aren't they?"

Isaac's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't think you know what you're talking about. We're done here."

Isaac moved quickly, but Peter was faster, reaching out to snatch his hand and keep him in place. Peter's rough fingertips ran up and down Isaac's wrist gently. The hold wasn't tight, but it was secure, and it kept Isaac in his seat.

"I think I do." Peter leaned forward again, his voice low but firm. Isaac tried not to notice how they must look, with the two of them practically laying across the table, their hands linked, their tones soft, and that _look_ in Peter's eyes, like he could eat him up. "But I think all you heard leave my lips was the mention of your father. I apologize. I shouldn't have mentioned him."

"No. You really shouldn't have." Isaac swallowed hard. "What are you doing here, Peter? Are you trying to keep me distracted? Are you trying to keep me out of Beacon Hills?"

"Yes."

Isaac blinked, confused by his bluntness. "Why?"

Peter shrugged, as if it were unimportant. "I can't follow you to Beacon Hills without...repercussions."

"So?"

Peter ignored him but his hand slid slightly, loosening, giving Isaac the option to pull it away. He didn't. The older werewolf slid his thumb over the younger one's knuckles, then down the curve between his index finger and his thumb, over the soft mound of flesh beneath.

Isaac sucked in a shaky breath and shifted his weight against the cushioned booth. The physical reaction frustrated him, but he couldn't help it; the caress had sent a shock from his fingertips to his groin. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed being touched by another person.

"You look for someone strong. It's instinct. It was your instinct before you were ever bitten," Peter said. His eyes stayed on Isaac, raking over him, as if he were taking in every minute reaction. "That's how Derek convinced you to change your life, with a touch of power play and a smidgen of seduction. That's why you were so quick to move on to Scott. You felt it, his power rising, Derek's falling. And you felt that Scott had more loyalty toward you, more of that protective nature that comes with an Alpha who puts his pack before himself. You tried too hard make it work with Scott, didn't you? Tell me, Isaac, did you feel closer to Scott when you were with Allison Argent? As much as I despised the two of them, I could almost see those links falling into place, the three of you connecting into something greater. Pursuing her first was good strategy on your part."

Isaac's voice trembled, the heat at his cheeks moving to his eyes. They burned at the accusation. "You asshole."

"I'm not questioning your affection, Isaac," Peter quickly amended. He made a face, frowning. "I don't know if it was 'love', per-se," he noted, "but your grief was real enough. It was the reason you left. I understand that about you, Isaac. More than you know."

Not all of it was true, but there was just enough in Peter's comments to remind Isaac of how he'd felt back then, about Derek, about Scott and Allison. Remembering hurt, which was one of the reasons he'd been avoiding this homecoming for so long. Isaac pushed down that sense of unease, though.

"So, what? You think I'm like you? You think I don't care about people if they can't do anything for me?"

"Relationships _should_ be mutually beneficial, Isaac. You recognized that before you were ever properly in one. That doesn't make you heartless; that makes you an early bloomer. I saw that in you. And I ignored that potential, too busy worrying about my other game pieces to realize what I was passing up...I suppose it was all for the best, though. You were too young to be very useful, then." Peter's grin returned. "Now you're all grown up...Now you're _just_ right."

"Useful?" Isaac huffed. "Useful for what?"

Peter waved at the waitress, motioning for her to bring them a carry out box and tossing a few bills onto the edge of the table, and then he focused his attention back on Isaac. "You do remember the last time we had pizza? I think I told you then what it was I wanted." Isaac felt the man let go of his hand; the skin was chilled without his warmth. Peter reached into his front pocket and pulled free a business card. He sat it in front of Isaac.

"I rent to room above the store. I'll be waiting for you, if you'd like to continue this discussion."

* * *

Isaac could remember:

_The smell of the pizza was warm, inviting, and seemed out of place in Derek's loft. It felt wrong, wanting to eat after all that had happened. It felt like pressing the pause button on the coming war with the Alpha Pack. But Isaac's stomach was sending out impressive growls before he'd even lifted the lid of the cardboard box, and he couldn't ignore what was right in front of him. A good chunk of the pizza was already gone with Derek, who was leaning close to the window, glaring out at the evening sky as he ate. Alphas ate first; it wasn't really a rule Derek inforced, but it was a habit that made Isaac feel more comfortable with his own indulgence._

_No one had invited "Uncle" Peter to partake in the meal, but the man was there, spewing snarky comments to Derek. Isaac wondered why Derek didn't take a swipe at the man, put him in his place, or, at the very least, forbid him from showing up here. But the Alpha didn't, and having the creepy undead werewolf show up unexpectedly always left Isaac on edge. Isaac was never sure what to make of him. He knew the story, about the fire, about the deaths; about Uncle Peter and Crazy Peter and Dead Peter and_ This _Peter. He wasn't sure how he should treat the werewolf, only that he should tread carefully._

_Isaac didn't notice when the other werewolves had stopped arguing, but Peter wasn't bothering with Derek at the moment, circling back for pizza. Isaac wanted to comment on him mooching, but he knew Peter would throw it back in his face._

_Isaac reached in for another slice, hoping that, if he could keep his mouth full, he could avoid a conversation. He felt Peter standing close, too close for comfort. Isaac ignored his instinct to run over to Derek, stand beside his Alpha. It felt stupid._

" _What do you want?" Isaac muttered._

_He felt Peter's breath on his neck for a split second as the man leaned forward over his shoulder, glancing at his pizza. Isaac felt a hip graze against his and froze, his slice inches from his mouth._

" _I was just curious," Peter said, quietly. There was some trace of humor in his tone, like he was telling a joke. Isaac swallowed hard at the tickling sensation of the man's whisper against his ear. "What do you like on top, Isaac? You seem to have a preference for meat."_

_Isaac glanced up. Derek was staring in their direction, a low growl at the back of his throat. Peter raised a hand in surrender, backing off a few feet to enjoy his meal, and Derek went back to ignoring the pair._

" _And to answer your question," Peter said, more casually, a smirk at his lips. "I want what everyone should want. I want it all."_

* * *

Isaac didn't knock. The door was unlocked, and he'd needed the advantage, which was an excuse his mind formulated about two seconds after he'd already turned the door knob.

"Why don't you want me in Beacon Hills?" he blurted, as soon as he spotted the other werewolf.

It took him a moment to digest what he was seeing. The apartment above the tiny corner shop, _Bella Luna Books_ , was mostly one large room, one end opening up to a partly enclosed kitchenette and small door leading to what Isaac had to assume was the bathroom. Bookshelves lined one wall of the main room, filled with dusty tomes and broken paperbacks, as if paying homage to the business below, but the apartment was otherwise lacking in color and art, the wallpaper white-on-beige paisley, the floors dark-stained wood. Laptop on a secretary's desk, dresser drawers, a tall wardrobe, a tiny table with one lonely chair...Isaac took it in as if he were filing the details for later, but it was all in a vain attempt not to stare at the center of the room, where a spacious bed's white duvet was marred only by the man laying across it, flipping the pages of a book.

Peter, propping up on his elbows, was still in his slacks, but had somehow lost his shirt and shoes in the twenty minutes it took Isaac to decide to follow him.

"Took you long enough," Peter replied, not bothering to look up from his book.

Isaac scoffed at the comment and almost took a step back, right out the door. Instead he pushed it closed behind him. "With as many enemies as you have, you'd think you'd lock the door."

"One doesn't lock the door when one is expecting Little Red Riding Hood at any moment," Peter answered.

Isaac could almost hear the smirk in the man's voice, goading him to reply. Isaac wanted to point out that he was a big bad wolf now, but every way he tried to phrase it, it came out wrong. He knew, in this scenario, that honor went to Peter, always the villain of the piece. Instead of leaving, Isaac reached behind him, turning the lock.

Peter did look up at that sharp sound, one brow arched. "Well, then," he breathed, as if he were pleased. "I'd offer you a drink..."

"Why don't you want me in Beacon Hills?" Isaac repeated.

Peter sighed. "Let me guess. You've convinced yourself that the reason you took up my invitation was so that you could gather information on whatever dastardly plans I have in motion?" He swung his legs around until he was sitting up on the bed. "Perhaps so you could report back to dear old Scott's pack of white hats? Maybe, just maybe, you could even use said-information as an excuse when you reach Beacon Hills, so that way you won't have to tell your old Alpha that you came back because you －"

"Actually," Isaac cut him off, "I came here because I thought you wanted to get in my pants."

Peter opened and closed his mouth. "I was right. You _do_ know how to speed up a date."

"Not a date," Isaac reminded him.

"You picked the restaurant, I picked up the tab, and now you're standing in my bedroom discussing sex. What would _you_ call it?"

"Courting."

"What an unusual term for someone so young to use."

Peter stood up, feigning a stretch, and crossed the short distance between them. He leaned close into Isaac's personal bubble, as if purposely trying to unnerve him. Isaac tried not to look away from Peter's piercing eyes, not in a challenge, but because that would mean staring at his broad chest, and more. He couldn't help but notice the other man's scent had changed now; the heady musk of arousal wasn't overbearing, but it was definitely present.

Peter slowly grinned, as if he could read Isaac's mind. "You've learned a few things, since you went away," he said, circling around him. Isaac could hear him take in deep breath, finding his scent. Isaac tried to not to blush. Perhaps the musk wasn't entirely Peter's. "How to court a new pack isn't something a bitten wolf knows about instinctively, and I'm sure Derek wouldn't have told you about the ritual."

Peter stopped behind him, close but not touching. "How," he asked, the words touching the side of Isaac's neck, "did you obtain such an education?"

"I was warned," Isaac replied. He fought the urge to tug at his jeans, which seemed to have shrunk a few sizes. "I ran across a few packs while I was traveling. An elder from one of them warned me to be careful of werewolves who might try to pull me into their pack by manipulating me. The called it 'courting.' They said Alphas might try to...to take advantage of me in order to add to their pack's strength."

"That isn't exactly how it was taught to me," Peter said. "But, for the most part, it's true. While being cast as an Omega is practically a death sentence, a strong Omega, one already in control of themselves, a survivor is a prize for any Alpha."

Isaac found it awkward, listening to the man without facing him, but he didn't move. "So that's what you meant by useful," he said, more to himself. "Peter Hale, after power. Surprise."

Peter chuckled to himself. "You forget, I'm not an Alpha. Though, we should always try to improve ourselves..."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "But that's still what this is. You're courting me."

"I am." Peter circled back around him, eyes downcast on Isaac's body. "But in a more traditional sense. The reason, little wolf, why I'm trying to stop you from returning to Beacon Hills is because I want you as _my_ prize, not Scott's. And, trust me, if you go back, he _will_ take you as his. His pack might grow today, but a newborn can hardly protect itself. He needs more wolves." Peter's gaze flickered up again, his eyes flashing to vibrant blue. "And I wouldn't blame him for taking you. But you should know, I don't need a spark of red in my eyes to be your Alpha."

Isaac's face felt entirely too hot and his mouth entirely too dry. "You want me to form a pack? With _you_?"

"See? You're not just a pretty face." Peter's teasing grin slipped into something more sincere. "You can't tell me it's not what you want. How do you think I found you, Isaac? You were giving off a certain scent, the sort that attracts attention among our kind. Having a pack isn't just about survival, it's about staving off the loneliness that comes with our lives. Did the elder who told you about courting explain how the process used to be, well, _completed_?"

Isaac shook his head. "How?"

"All it takes is for both parties to _want_ it... _when_ there's an Alpha's spark to connect the wolves. But, as pointed out, I'm not officially an Alpha." Peter's eyes narrow, as if in thought, as if he were musing, but Isaac knew before the next words left his mouth that the other werewolf was already two steps ahead.

"No, that wouldn't work," Peter said. "No, see, to make us pack, we'd need to put in a bit more effort, employ a, shall we say, wilder magic." He reached out, blunt human nails scraping down the length of Isaac's shirt. When his finger's reached the hem, they disappeared beneath the cloth, and Isaac could feel his rough knuckles against his abs. "One recognized by all beasts, a very _literal_ demonstration of our willingness to be one. Do you understand?"

Isaac could taste his heart on the tip of his tongue. "What makes you think I'd be willing?" He realized, as soon as he said it, that the words were in complete contrast to the hardening member pressed against the inside of his jeans, a detail that Peter would have already noticed. "Why would I want to be in a pack with you?"

Peter pulled his hand back and moved to Isaac's side. "I asked you to remember the last time we shared a pizza, because I knew you would," he replied. "I knew, little wolf, because a boy remembers it when a few simple words leave him heavy and hard." Peter circled behind Isaac once again, and the man's hands slid around him from behind, resting firmly on his narrow hips. Peter's voice was at his ear again. "This is what you wanted back then, when I stood behind you, just like this, barely touching you..."

Isaac felt more than the man's hip against his this time, and he whimpered, instantly humiliated by the sound. "What did I want?" he said, softly.

"You wanted," Peter picked up, "me to prove I was worthy. Remember? You crave the one with power, the one who will be loyal to you. Derek tried, but he couldn't give you that loyalty. He was never meant for that job. You knew it then, but you were too young for me to show you I had exactly what you needed..."

One of Peter's hands slipped down further, finding Isaac's belt. The leather popped against the denim as it was yanked out and dropped to the floor. The sound of the zipper being tugged down was far too loud.

"I'm not one for reliving the past," Peter said, "but I think that moment deserves a do-over, don't you?"

The whispered tease sent electricity down Isaac's body. Breathless, he closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly, resting it against Peter's shoulder. He felt the man's scruffy cheek on his neck a second before lips pressed against the line of his jaw, working their way down to his collar. Peter's mouth stopped at the nape of his neck, suckling at the skin there so hard it would have hurt if he hadn't been otherwise distracted by the coarse rub off his boxers as they were pushed down to his knees.

Isaac couldn't help the way his body pushed back against Peter, his bare ass rubbing against the man's slacks. Peter groaned against Isaac's neck, his retaliation coming in the form of his fingers wrapping around Isaac's cock.

"You're big." Peter purred. "I knew you would be. So am I, sweetheart."

Isaac was hard. _God_ , he was so hard, and so needy. Isaac bit down a moan that shook him to the core, but Peter was merciless, his dry palm running up Isaac's length, this thumb rubbing at the swollen head, toying with its small slit. Isaac was almost embarrassed of the sound he made when Peter's other hand pulled away from his hip, sliding up over his tense chest to find one of his beady nipples, but it had been so long since he'd let himself have this, since he'd been touched by another person.

He hadn't just been running away from Beacon Hills when he'd moved, he'd left behind the idea of connecting, of being a part of another person. Despite a few sweaty solo nights of what he'd assumed were misguided fantasies about Peter Hale, he'd never imagined he'd ever be pressed against the man's body, letting him take control. He hadn't realized he'd wanted it so badly, but his body knew. It was the reason he hadn't taken off at the pizza shop, the reason he'd followed the address on the business card － instinct. He trusted his instinct.

Isaac's eyes opened when Peter released his cock, but his confusion was answered when Peter raised his hand up to his face and spit into his empty palm. Isaac arched his neck to help, tongue flicking out to lick at the man's salty fingers. Isaac felt Peter's dick twitch through his pants. Isaac smiled to himself, happy to have been responsible for the reaction.

Peter pulled his hand away, gripping Isaac's cock again. The meager lubrication felt good against the sensitive flesh. Peter didn't play with him this time, sliding his hand up and down in quick, practiced movements. Isaac knew why the man was so good; he could picture Peter standing just like he was, holding himself instead, coming all over that hard, muscular chest of his. Imagining that moment almost pushed Isaac over the edge.

"Peter..." Isaac panted the name, trying to match it to the fast rhythm of Peter's jerks. "Peter...God, Peter, Peter _, please_..."

"Come for me, little wolf." Peter growled against his back, tightening his grip, and Isaac did as his packmate asked, crying out as he finished.

Isaac wasn't sure how they'd moved so close to the bed, but his knees grazed the side of the mattress, and he fell forward onto it, panting against the sheet as he tried to collect himself. He felt Peter's wet hand slide back to its place against the ridge of his hip, resting there like it belonged. But he wanted to see the man.

Isaac rolled over, his vision shaky as his heartbeat slowed. He layed flat on his back, legs hanging off the edge bed, jeans still around his ankles, and Peter moved to stand between his knees. The man was still entirely too clothed.

"You're my beta now," Peter said, staring down at him. His eyes flashed to blue. "Do you submit?"

He almost didn't. Almost locked eyes again, made the werewolf earn the words again. But there was something, some uncertainty in Peter's gaze...Isaac answered before he could back out.

"I submit." Isaac huffed out a laugh, swiping the back of his hand against his sweaty brow. "Wild magic, huh?"

A smile tugged at Peter's cheek. "No such thing. If Omegas want to form an alliance, they simply do. As we have," he admitted. "I just wanted to get into your pants."

Isaac pushed himself up onto one elbow and reached out, pulling at the button of Peter's slacks. It popped off, hitting the wall with a _ting_. "Yeah, I figured that out."

Peter's grin widened with hunger. "My way is more fun. And mutually beneficial."

"Agreed... Plus, there was pizza."

"Every good courting requires pizza, sweetheart."


End file.
